


Echoes of Elium

by Kindofkina



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Childhood Friends, Cross-Post, Found Family, Gen, King Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Mystery, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Team Bonding, Thief Wilbur
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29781657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kindofkina/pseuds/Kindofkina
Summary: With the Northern continent's two most powerful kingdoms on the brink of war, destiny leads to an unlikely alliance between old friends. Soon, an unsettling reality becomes clear:They may well be the people's last hope.But with the wounds of the past still hanging over them, and the threat of destruction ever looming, can the group learn to put aside their differences before it's too late?





	1. This was how it should've ended.

The first faint glimmers of starlight painted the sky as the sun began to melt into the imposing skyline of the city. Avren had always been one of the more impressive capitals on the Northern Continent, but it was on evenings like this where its magic truly seemed to shine. Windmills turned slowly in distant fields, far below the ever-looming figure of the castle, cutting a bold imprint into the horizon. Down in the industrial district, far below the confines of the castle wall, a certain lanky half elf lay, propped on his elbows, relaxing on the roof of a tavern. His curly hair, poking out from beneath a feathered cap, blew gently in the wind, as he examined the scenes below through deep brown eyes. He was dressed in smart clothes, with each article - from the mustard yellow waistcoat to the stylish black boots - oozing affluence. To the most perceptive eye, however, one simple thing would stand out; not a single item of this costly ensemble had originated from the same outfit as the rest.

The distant babble of townsfolk drifted on a warm breeze towards Wilbur's pointed ears, and he sighed, leaning back into the curve of the slate rooftop. Surveying the city he'd known for 7 years, a comforting stillness washed over him. The clatter of horses' hooves rang out occasionally, along with the melodic laughter of children playing, and familiar faces dotted the streets far below. It was home, at least as much of a 'home' as he'd ever known. His brow furrowed slightly as he allowed his eyes to fall shut- a question starting to solidify in the depths of his mind;

_Do you really want this to change?_

He pushed it back. He had never been one to dwell on the hypothetical, and in this case a decision had been made. Tomorrow, if all went according to plan, he would finally be-

"Can I come with you?"

Wilbur's thoughts were interrupted by a loud whisper, disrupting the peace like a crack of thunder. Leaping into a crouched position, he spun around wildly.  
"Get down, you idiot!" He hissed, pressing down on the intruder's head. "Somebody's going to spot you!".

A smaller, blond-haired half-elf, now flailing against the rooftop, spoke again in a muffled tone. "Get _off_ of me Will, I'm being serious, I really think I could help you out tonight and-"

"This isn't a game Tommy" Wilbur's tone darkened, but he lightened his grip slightly. "Tonight, there's no room for error."

Having wriggled out from his elder brother's grasp, Tommy ran a hand through his hair, scowling slightly. With this view of him, Wilbur could better see what the younger was wearing. A dark navy overcoat, slightly too large on him, juxtaposed the shabby trademark shorts and worn socks that he was never seen without. Tommy's knees were a little reddened from the encounter, grazed ever so slightly by the rough slate.  
"When are you going to start taking me seriously?" he muttered.

Wilbur sighed heavily, making his way back into a sitting position. After a moment's silence, he began to speak again falteringly.  
"I... do. I take you very seriously. Your safety especially. That's why tonight, once I'm finished, we will go somewhere better than this. We'll leave this life behind us."

Tommy, slowly shuffling to perch beside Wilbur, kept his eyes focused on the tiles below. "That's what you say" he began, "but it's not so bad here, right? I mean- I.. I have my friends... and you have a job-"

"I'm a criminal." Wilbur interjected coldly.

"Right, yeah... but I think that's pretty cool! Plus we know Avren so well, every little.. every nook and cranny! And-"

"Tommy." Wilbur's tone was exasperated. His head rested in one hand, as he massaged his temples. "We've had this discussion enough. We aren't living the rest of our lives just... constantly on the run like this. We'll say goodbye to our friends tomorrow. Tonight, all I ask of you is that you stay here."  
He wasn't sure what he expected to see in his brother's eyes, but the strange hint of pity bothered Wilbur above anything else.

Tommy probed quietly one last time. "But I can help.."

Sitting up straight in a sudden rush of irritation, Wilbur glared down at him. "But you _can't_ , can you Tommy? You'd only drag me down. You never even learned how to-"

**"BOYS."**

A booming voice rang out across the rooftops, accompanied by the distinctive slam of window shutters opening below. The gaggle of crows which had been perching peacefully on a nearby chimney let out a cacophony of squawks, before taking flight in unison. The brothers, recovering from the momentary state of shock, shared a quick guilty glance between them.  
Just peeking out over the top of the slates, a woman's head appeared. Her wiry grey hair was tied back by a rag, and her tired expression was only exacerbated by the layers of grease and grime that seemed to coat her face. As she strained to maintain her precarious position, leaning out of the top floor window, her eyes scanned the roof. For a brief moment Wilbur considered hiding, but realising the futility, he instead gave a sheepish wave.

"Hey, Lynn."

"'Hey' my arse!" She grumbled, her face reddening slightly as she pulled further onto her tiptoes. "I ain't sticking my neck out for you lads so that you can go gallivanting around on the rooftops, attracting half the bloody city guard!".

"Seems like you're the one doing that" Tommy muttered under his breath, prompting a curt kick in the shin from Wilbur.

"She's right, Tommy" He remarked pointedly. "We're very sorry ma'am. Come on now." He stretched out his hand to the smaller elf, but the gesture was met by a look of defiance- one all too familiar to the elder. There was a split second of tension before he accepted that this was simply one of those times that his brother's stubbornness would not be overcome easily. Groaning inwardly, Wilbur insisted again through gritted teeth, his words sharp as ice.

"We should go now".

As he spoke, ethereal tendrils of a white, smoke-like haze began to float and snake within his eyes, akin to a deep fog, until it filled them completely. With an almost pained expression, the younger elf began, shakily, to move into action. Moving forwards to help his brother up to his feet, Wilbur carefully guided him towards the roof's edge, the colour in his eyes quickly returning. As the two crossed paths, the faintest whisper escaped Tommy's mouth.  
"You're an arsehole".

Upon seeing his scratched knees, Lynn's expression softened slightly.  
"Well now..." she tutted. "How'd that happen boy? Come here, come on" she reached one arm out, gesturing to him like he was a lost cat. Tommy hesitantly reached back for her outstretched hand, and she gripped it tightly, pulling him clumsily back down through the window. With one last furtive glance around, Wilbur sighed and deftly leapt down onto the ledge below, hopping through the open shutters.

As his eyes adjusted to the lower light, the knots and crags of the familiar wooden walls began to come back into view. The slightest smell of something putrid- likely vomit, hung in the musty air of the tavern. A singular patron, seemingly drunk, stumbled just around the corner and out of sight.

"See?" Lynn sighed, patting down Tommy's clothes. "Isn't it lovely to be back on solid, flat ground again?". She pulled the rag from her hair, leaning down to tie it around his bloodied knee. "There we go. Hurry along now, if you're quick you could snag a spot in the baths before the next lot get in".

At these words Tommy immediately perked up, a twinkle in his eye.  
"Really? In the proper baths?" He shot a smug look towards his elder brother.

"Yes, yes, but be quick about it now" she ushered him along with her hand, and despite her stern tone Wilbur could sense the hint of amusement in her mannerisms. As the echo of Tommy's quick footsteps faded away, he gave Lynn a sad smile.

"Thank you. Sorry for... uh, you know" He waved vaguely towards the roof.

She shook her head in response, letting out a heavy sigh. "Well. I suppose I just couldn't let you both leave without one final little treat for him. But you know I've a soft spot for him, don't you?" She gave a slight chuckle, before her face fell back into solemnity once again. "I've no idea what you're up to, Wilbur, but if this really is your last night here..." there was a slight pause as she seemed to turn over her thoughts carefully in her mind. "I suppose what I'm trying to say, is; stay safe. You may have all your 'Mesmer' bullcrap to fall back on, but... it's a bad path you're taking. Tommy's a good lad. That's all".

Wilbur felt a deep pit in his stomach. The last thing he needed was a reflection of his own guilty sentiments from the woman who'd given him safe harbour for the past few months. Nevertheless, he gulped down any words of retaliation, instead offering a subdued smile.  
"Thanks for all you've done. I suppose I'd better get packing." He replied tersely.

He turned on his heel, heading towards a wooden door near the end of the hallway. It sat sadly on rusted hinges, almost dragging on the floor. A small metal plate hung from a nail, clumsily engraved with the words 'room 23'. Fumbling in his pocket for the familiar clunky key he'd kept stowed away, his thoughts turned to the upcoming events of the night.

If he could be sure that his information was accurate - a point in which he felt confident, his source had never let him down before - tonight's heist would possibly be the biggest seen in the entire history of Veterna. There would certainly be enough for a comfortable living outside the walls of Avren. They could buy their own home- perhaps somewhere deep in the countryside, where the two of them could finally be independent, alone, and most importantly... free.  
His mind was snapped back to the present as he felt his knuckles graze against cold metal. Grasping at the key, he stood for just a moment in the hallway, savouring the last few moments of peace he would have that day. With a shaky breath, he held it up to the lock.

But as he pushed it in, a chill immediately shot through his body.

He felt no resistance.

The door was already open.


	2. This is how it begins.

Just moments passed, but they felt like centuries to Wilbur as he racked his brain for any logical explanation. He always ensured the room was locked when he and Tommy were away. His key was on him at all times, and it was the only one. Nobody else, not even Lynn had access to this room.  
And as he hesitated, the softest creak of a floorboard sounded.  
Somebody was still inside.

His hand hovering on the handle, he felt the dull thud of his heart begin to reverberate in his head. Then, in one swift motion, he flung the door wide open, left hand on the knife at his belt.

The darkness was deceptive for a moment, but as the dust began to settle, the faintest humanoid outline slowly shifted from the shadows, turning leisurely to face him. As his eyes met with those of the intruder, there was a moment of silent tension.

And then they both spoke simultaneously.

"You've _got_ to be kidding me".

Standing before him was a familiar figure- albeit a slightly older version than Wilbur was accustomed to. The lanky Beornen man wore a smart white shirt beneath the fitted red jacket of the crown's guard, lined with gold trim. A white sash was tied around his waist, sitting just above a slightly dirtied pair of black trousers, tucked into metal plated boots. At his hip, an ornate silver rapier rested, sheathed. Perhaps the most notable aspect of the young man was his face- while most Beornen take the form of some kind of furred or feathered creature, this particular one, rather unusually, had the head of a pig.

His deep red eyes watched the half-elf attentively.  
"You know, stare any longer and I'll have to start charging you". The recognizable deep voice broke the silence, tinged with sarcasm as always.

"Techno, I-" Wilbur searched his mind for the right thing to say. He had so many questions swirling around in his head. _How did you get in here? Where have you been all this time? Why didn't you contact me?_  
Yet when he spoke, all that came out was;

"It's so good to see you, old friend."

Techno gave a small chuckle, stepping backwards to sit on the threadbare bed. "Well, I wish it was under better circumstances - but yes, It's good to see you too, Wilbur. Or should I say 'the phantom of Avren?'" He raised an eyebrow.

Will laughed, cringing slightly at how hollow it sounded. "Yes, I suppose you could say that".

Techno leaned back. "What's up with that anyway? You aren't even a Phantom, you're a Mesmer"

"It's a figure of speech" Wilbur sighed.

"It's false advertising, that's what it is". The Beornen's tone was light-hearted, but Wilbur could read his face- it spoke of stress and exhaustion.

There was a pause.

"I suppose you're here to arrest me then?" Wilbur laughed, unable to disguise the slight wobble of apprehension in his voice.

"Oh, right" Techno waved his hand dismissively. "Nah. If I was I'd have done it already."  
He leaned to the side, reaching into one of his jacket pockets. Retrieving a folded piece of paper, sealed with red wax, he handed it to Wilbur. "Apparently they decided the best use for me two weeks before my promotion was as an errand boy".

Taking the letter, Wilbur examined it closely. "Head guard, eh?" He mumbled, distracted. "Pretty impressive, man."

"Eh" Techno shrugged, feigning indifference. "Outside of me and Deo, the current guards are fairly incompetent. I mean, they let you of all people become the most prolific thief in this city."

Ignoring the jab, Wilbur frowned. "This isn't the castle seal." He glanced up. "This is the king's".

"Yep. It's an invitation. To dinner. Tonight."

Wilbur snorted. "And I suppose it's common practice for the King himself to sit down to dinner with criminals?".

A more solemn expression clouded Techno's face. "He's extended this invitation to several people, not just you, Wilbur. I think this may be something serious- I'll be there too." He clearly read Wilbur's suspicious expression, because his tone shifted slightly. "Either way. You will see me again. Although I warn you it's likely to be on less friendly terms should you not show up tonight."

"Are you threatening me, Techno?"

"Hey" Techno held his hands up in mock surrender. "I'm just being honest. As far as I see it, no matter what this is about, it's a great chance for you to make amends. But if I'm ordered to come after you for real, there's not much of a choice there for me".

Wilbur rolled his eyes, stowing the sealed letter away. "Well that's good to know and all, but it doesn't matter either way. I have plans for tonight."

Techno shrugged, standing up. "Suit yourself. I should be heading back now anyhow." He made a move towards the door, his footsteps heavy on the uncarpeted floor. Wilbur backed out of the way instinctively, but spoke up once more as he passed.

"Say... just hypothetically. What if I _did_ come to this obvious setup? Who else is going to be there?"

The Beornen gave a small smile. "Wish I knew. Apparently, the rest of our guests aren't _quite_ as elusive as you and can receive mail like... y'know, functioning members of society."

Will gave him a playful punch on the arm as he strolled out through the doorway. Just as he stepped into the corridor, Techno turned one last time.

"Oh, say hi to your brother for me, will you?".

He walked down the hallway, and out of sight.

Alone once again in the dark and dingy room, Wilbur felt a hectic rush of emotions bubbling to the top all at once. _Bastard_ he thought to himself, flopping down onto the bed. _Some nerve, showing up out of the blue like that._  
He pulled the letter out once more, running his fingers over the seal. With one swift motion, he snapped it open.

_To the one who calls himself 'The Phantom of Avren'_

__

_Your presence is requested tonight at the castle for a banquet. Please arrive promptly at 9pm. The guards will let you in upon display of this letter._

__

_Best regards._

The letter was unsigned, but a printed crest at the bottom very clearly marked it as property of the king.

"What's that?"

Will jumped at the sound, hastily scrunching up the letter and shoving it behind his back.  
" _Nothing_ , Tommy, Jesus." he put a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. "You've got to stop sneaking around like that".

"Sorry" The younger chirped, clearly feeling more refreshed now. "I didn't knock or anything 'cause I assumed you'd already be gone."

Wilbur glanced towards the small window, noticing for the first time how low the light had gotten.

"Yeah I suppose I should be heading off soon". He shoved the letter into his back pocket, standing up from the bed. "And _you_ should be getting ready to sleep".

Tommy huffed, already making his way over to their singular chair, where his ragged pyjamas were draped. Wilbur let out a small sigh of relief, thankful that his brother didn't seem in the mood for conflict for once. He picked up his jacket, draping it over his shoulder, and turned to Tommy as he opened the door.

"Have a good rest now, and stay safe. I'll be back soon".

Tommy yawned, folding his towel up. "Whatever you say Will."

Wilbur locked the door behind him.

The air had gained a brisk chill as he made his way out along the cobbled streets of the industrial district. Candles were just starting to flicker to life within various houses, and the occasional shopkeeper could be spotted through the store windows, sweeping and tidying up. The chatter of voices had died down to a low murmur as the city began to fall asleep.

His footsteps echoing around the empty streets, Wilbur walked further into the outskirts of the district. This far from the city's centre, the streets were very quiet, almost unsettlingly so. He turned into a dingy alleyway, taking a quick glance around before descending a set of stone stairs. At the bottom, a steel sign hung above a bolted wooden door.

'Fundy's Emporium'.

Wilbur gave a knock, wincing slightly at how loud it seemed in the thick silence.

A metal shutter on the door slid open, an eye appearing in it's wake.

"We're clo- ohh... yeah. You're late."

The shutter snapped closed again, and the muffled sound of various bolts and chains being unlatched rang out. The door was cracked open ever so slightly, and a hand reached out, grabbing Wilbur's collar to pull him into the darkness.

"Careful" Will grumbled as the door slammed shut behind him. "You'll rip my best shirt".

The male voice scoffed. "I'm sure you'll be able to buy another one after tonight, man!".  
He held a match up to a lantern in the centre of the room, which roared into bright flames almost immediately. The light illuminated the building's interior- exposing row upon row of shelves housing almost thousands of softly glowing potion bottles. Each one swirled with different liquids in a myriad of colours, every section of shelf labelled meticulously. And standing before Wilbur, in the centre of the room, was a tall, slim man in a well fitted suit, his face obscured by a slender wooden fox mask.

"Did you get what I needed, Fundy?" Wilbur asked, straightening out his shirt.

"Relax, dude, of course I did" Fundy slipped away behind a blocky counter at the back end of the shop, reappearing almost immediately with a hempen sack in his hand. "Catch!"

Just barely snatching the bag from mid-air, Will kneeled on the floor to examine its contents. It was very standard stuff; a coil of rope, a smoke bomb, a vial of poison and some spare daggers. He nodded contently, retrieving a gold coin from a small bag on his belt.

"Your turn" he quipped, tossing it at Fundy.

Catching it deftly, Fundy spoke again, with the hint of a smirk in his voice. "You know the plan, right? Master bedroom's on the top floor, the party starts at 8:30." He paused for a second, watching Wilbur carefully as he sorted the sack's contents into his various frilled pockets.

"You alright man? You're super pale."

"Hm?" Wilbur paused, taking a second to process what he'd said. "Oh, right, yeah. I'm fine! Just had a weird encounter earlier."

Fundy tutted. "C'mon Will, you have to be on your a-game tonight!" He walked up to the half-elf, leaning over to grasp his shoulders firmly. "I know you can do this. We even practiced your rich people talk together!".

Wilbur laughed, shrugging Fundy's hands off him. "Yeah. You're right. I'll do my best". He stood up, starting to make his way back towards the door, and Fundy gave a mock salute in return.

"Oh, and you'd better not run off with your punk little brother before I get my cut!".

"You got it, boss!" Will teased, sliding the bolt out from its latch. As he felt the cold winter's air hit him full force once again, he pulled on his jacket, and slipped off into the night.

Teeth chattering, he walked for a further twenty minutes through the lonely streets of Avren, his only companion the occasional stray animal that stopped to stare. As he neared the Ivory district, the faintest sound of chatter and music floated towards him, and the bright lights of the Rutland residence twinkled in the distance. Being one of the most powerful families in the city, Wilbur had struggled for a long time to make a connection with them, even with his 'persuasive tendencies', as Fundy liked to call it. Their annual soirees were fairly well known, even among the less affluent, for being extremely exclusive. For this singular night, the Rutlands would open their doors to visitors, and finally let their guard down. This opportunity was once in a lifetime for Will.

So why had he stopped?

He found himself stood on the river's main bridge - the separator between districts - his foot tapping on the stone with restless energy. A couple, dressed up elegantly, walked past him at a leisurely pace. He turned his head towards the water, seeing their distorted figures reflected in its calm ripples, and his own face stared back at him, his extravagant hat shadowing his features. For a small moment, the outside world faded away as he watched the waters swirling peacefully.

And then he laughed quietly to himself.

"God, you're such an idiot, Wilbur."

Turning his back to the Ivory district, he headed towards the castle.


End file.
